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Not Sergio’s.
Thank fuck.
“I knew it was a boy.” She smiled, but only briefly. “I knew I’d give you a son. Look after him. And tell him how much his mother loved him. How his mother protected him.”
I swallowed and wiped the tears that had fallen down my cheeks. “You tell him yourself. You’re going to be fine.”
She looked me straight in the eye and shook her head. “No, I’m done here. No one needs me anymore. Give Daniella to Nick and Evie. They’ll take her. I know they will. They love her so much.” The color in her face was draining quickly, and it scared the fuck out of me.
I’d never seen anyone so pale before.
“And you’ll raise Marcello. Your son.” Another small smile tugged at her lips before her eyes rolled back.
And she stopped breathing.
2
Giselle
Humming.
A low, distant humming sound filled my ears.
Then there was beeping.
And bleeping.
Everything had been so—peaceful. And now—and now, it wasn’t.
Voices.
Familiar voices.
And.
A baby’s cry?
My eyes fluttered open to see—
Carlo.
Holding Marcello.
Marcello was fussing in Carlo’s arms. And Carlo was trying to feed him a bottle.
“No,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I’d actually said the word.
Or any word.
My mouth was dry and sticky. And my lips and tongue felt heavy.
Carlo’s eyes darted to mine. The bottle dropped from his hand—but the baby stayed in his arms. Thank goodness.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Carlo rushed to my side. I was in a bed, surrounded by machines. All of them bleeping and beeping and humming their own particular beat.
“Thank fuck, Giselle. You’re back.” His free hand slipped behind my head, and he brought his lips to my forehead. “Fuck, you had me worried.”
I was—back.
